The Saga of Colm the Slave (30 page)

Colm nodded. “All right. This is good
advice. I will try to apply it.”

“Good. Here, take back your silver.”

“I got what I came for,” said Colm. “I
am pleased to give you a gift.”

Snorri smiled. “I would rather give you
a gift. I would have you as my friend.”

“Well, I am your friend, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” said Snorri, “Well, you may
have heard I am having a few problems with the people over at
Mavahlid, west of here.”

Colm had indeed heard about this.
Suddenly things became very clear to him. He understood what Snorri
wanted from him. “I don’t know these people myself. I’m sure that
you can resolve any problems you have with them.”

“I believe so, too,” said Snorri, “At
least so long as others stay out of things.”

“Well, I know of no one interested in
getting involved in this matter.”

Snorri gave a wide smile. “That is very
good to hear.” Then the two sat chatting for a time until Colm
judged that he could leave without discourtesy.

Colm rode directly over to Thorolf’s
farm. Thorolf and Hallvard received him with open hands. It was
getting dark and one of Thorolf’s slaves ran over to the Trollfarm
to tell Gwyneth that Colm would not be home that night.

Colm said, “I may have made an error
today and I want to speak to you about it. I may have indebted
myself to another godi and I hope that there is no trouble between
you and him.”

“Who is it?”

“Snorri, the godi over at
Thorsness.”

“I have no problems with him,” said
Thorolf. He looked over at Hallvard. “How do we stand with
Thorsness?”

“All is well,” said Hallvard.

Thorolf turned back to Colm. “Since
these young men are of an age, I have had Hallvard be my emissary
there. But tell me what happened.”

Colm told them the story, beginning with
his desire to keep Ljot and Styr from fighting one another. When he
described Snorri’s speech and attitude, the other two men leaned
forward and listened carefully. When Colm was finished, they sat
back and looked at one another. “So that’s how he does it,” said
Hallvard.

“Easy to say, hard to imitate,” said
Thorolf.

“You have no difficulty with the
Mavahlid business?” said Colm.

“No. That is far out of my range. And,
anyway, Snorri’s farm sits between us and Mavahlid.” Thorolf rubbed
his beard. “There is a good fighter or two connected with Mavahlid,
but Snorri has already neutralized them.”

Hallvard said, “The fighters sided with
Erik the Red. When Snorri helped Erik settle his dispute with
Thorgest, they became beholden to him.”

“So they won’t help the people at
Mavahlid?”

Thorolf shook his head. “There is no
hope for them except to leave the country. Snorri’s followers far
outnumber them.”

“There is still Arnkel,” said Hallvard.
Arnkel was chieftain at Bolstad. His land bordered Snorri’s and
some of Snorri’s followers were threatening to go over to Arnkel,
since he was closer to them.

“Yes, there is Arnkel, until Snorri
decides that it is time to take him on. Snorri is already making
friends with anyone who might be Arnkel’s ally in a fight. He gives
them gifts or does them favors so that they are in his debt.”
Thorolf waved a hand at Colm.

“I see,” said Colm. “Are you...”

“So far I have steered clear of the
entire business,” said Thorolf. “Personally, I like Arnkel. He is a
fine man but I think he is outmatched here. I will avoid going into
his debt. I think he will not live many more years.” Hallvard
nodded in agreement.

“So Snorri will isolate him and then
kill him.”

Thorolf nodded. “I think so. When there
is no one left who will avenge Arnkel, then Snorri will attack
him.”

“Is that good?”

“Well,” shrugged Thorolf, “It is better
than a great feud with everyone killing one another.” Hallvard
agreed. Thorolf said, “Arnkel should have looked to this problem
long before now. A little more sense in his land-taking, a little
more diplomacy in dealing with Snorri...” He shook his head.

The three sat talking about politics
deep into the night.

Colm had a long talk with Ljot and Styr.
He spoke to them of friendship and brotherhood. Then he took a
sharp knife and cut each boy across his left thumb. He had the boys
press their thumbs against each other’s forehead leaving a mark
like that at a sacrifice. “Now,” said Colm, “You bear each other’s
blood and are responsible for each others’ life.” The boys solemnly
nodded. “No one else is closer to you. No one else’s words matter.
If they taunt you, laugh at them, for they have only words and you
have your brother.”

“Laugh at them?” said Styr.

Colm nodded. He recalled the berserk and
the twins from Norway and told the boys about that. “You laughed at
a berserk!” The boys’ eyes were wide.

“Actually, all I had to do was grin at
him,” said Colm. “That infuriated those who brought him here.” He
spread his hands. “They all died. They were foolish and they died.
So it is. Now, smile at fools and shrug them off. But if they are
very difficult, grin at them. Laugh if you can’t help it, but
remember that you may have to kill this fellow you laugh at, so
reserve laughter as a last resort.”

The boys nodded, their eyes even wider.
After this, when faced with cutting remarks, Ljot and Styr would
stop and consider whether to smile, to grin, or to laugh. They bore
themselves quietly and with great dignity and the other boys began
to fear them without knowing exactly why. Soon they had a fearsome
reputation without ever drawing a sword. The chatter about them
fighting one another died down, too, because no one now wanted the
brothers’ enmity.

Gunnora was pleased and she sent a
reward over to the Trollfarm. After some thought, she sent it not
to Colm, but to Gwyneth. Gwyneth received the gift, some fine
cloth, in silence. She pondered for a while, then sent Gunnora back
a gift of equal value. She did not want to be in the woman’s debt.
Gunnora accepted the situation as it stood but she, and her sons,
were now allied with Colm. Thorolf smiled and pulled his beard. “It
is always good to have strong ties within the community,” he said.
Hallvard agreed.

The next summer, at Althing, Snorri had
the men at Mavahlid outlawed, They could find no allies and soon
left Iceland. Their women abandoned the farm and Snorri moved some
of his people into it.

27. Thurid In Love

Thurid began to think of marriage. She
and some other girls had a backward-feast. They sat at a table with
empty dishes with their aprons on wrong way. A serving-girl filled
their bowls with skyr and they got up and backed away from the full
dishes, so reversing the events of a meal. Then, after turning time
around, they all sat staring into the fire, waiting for the vision
of their future husband to appear now as history. No one saw
anything, perhaps because they talked and giggled too much. “We
should have spoken backwards,” said Thurid.

“What do you know?” jeered the others.
“You fell asleep!” And it was true that Thurid had taken a little
nap by the warm fire but she didn’t see how that mattered. She
could have seen her husband in her dreams, after all. Especially if
she managed to dream backwards.

It was warm and the days were long.
Thurid found it hard to sleep with the sun shining all the time.
She got up one morning, just before dawn, and made her way to the
meadows above the Trollfarm. There were certain flowers that grew
up the mountain and it was said if you washed your face in the dew
that collected on them, your skin would shine with beauty. Far up
the mountain, Thurid found some flowers that she thought were
probably the ones that people meant. The plants were wet with dew
and Thurid washed her face thoroughly. Light was growing now and
the birds had begun to sing. The horses in the distance had woken
and begun to graze. Thurid inhaled the fresh smell of the crushed
flowers and the grass and the distant horses and breathed deeply,
filling her lungs. She watched a mare nurse its colt and her heart
swelled. She had no thoughts, no words, just deep nameless feelings
that filled her utterly.

Across the meadow was a small shelter
made of turf and stone. As Thurid watched, a young man crawled out
of the shelter and stretched in the sun. He was naked. A horse came
over and thrust his muzzle against the man’s bare chest. The man
laughed, Thurid heard him laugh out loud, then he slapped the
horse’s flank and began running. The horse caught up to him and the
two ran side by side for a second or so until the horse began to
pull ahead, then the young man grabbed its mane and pulled himself
onto the horse’s back and kicked it into a full gallop, his
unbraided hair streaming behind him in the dawn light.

Thurid watched until he rode over a rise
and out of view. She had never seen such a glorious sight. She took
a deep breath but now the sun was fully up and the flower scent all
burned away with the dew. Only the grass and the horse smell
remained. Thurid blinked in the bright sun and felt as though she
had awakened from a dream. Slowly she walked back to the
Trollfarm.

All day long, Thurid walked about in a
daze. Gwyneth watched her with some concern, picking up after her
chores and making certain the chickens were properly watered and
the morning’s milk strained and covered. It was midday before
Thurid spoke. She said, “I have seen my husband today.”

Gwyneth knew of the games the girls
played and smiled a little. “Ah, and was he a one-eyed troll or a
bow-legged dwarf?”

“He was tall and young and golden and
played with horses.”

Gwyneth grew serious. She had an idea
who Thurid meant. “Where did you have this vision?”

“Up in the meadow. My husband is with
the horses there.”

“I see,” said Gwyneth. “Well, I think
you saw Frosti who Colm has hired to look after the horses.”

“He is beautiful,” said Thurid.

“He is a farmhand...” began Gwyneth, but
Thurid glared at her.

“I will marry him,” said Thurid, her
lips pressed firmly together.

Gwyneth was at a loss. “Let’s go speak
to your other mother,” she said finally.

Groa waved a hand. “This is nothing.”
She said, “A passing fancy. There are better matches...”

“This is the one for me!” said Thurid
and crossed her arms over her chest.

“He is the son of a slave!” said
Groa.

“Well,” said Thurid, “I am a slave’s
daughter!” She nodded at Gwyneth. “Twiceover!”

Neither Gwyneth nor Groa voiced their
next thought, that Frosti had no father, for they foresaw Thurid’s
response. They talked to her for a time but Thurid was more and
more adamant. Anyway, neither had given much thought to this matter
and had no rival match to offer. Finally, Groa turned to Gwyneth.
“Just who is this man anyway?”

“Well, you know Braga and Adals...”

“Adals is of no account! He has abandone
d his family!”

“Well, as for that,” said Gwyneth, “He
is not Frosti’s father.”

“All right! I know that,” said Groa,
“But who is this man?”

Gwyneth turned her palms up. “He seems
decent enough. He knows horses. I have heard no ill of him.” She
thought, except that sometimes he is not very bright. But she did
not say that.

The two older women sat there with the
girl in silence for a time. Then Gwyneth said, “I will speak to
Colm about this.”

Groa nodded. “And I must talk to Mar.”
She turned to Thurid. “He is your father, after all.” Thurid did
not reply.

Gwyneth thought she needed to head off
problems. “Colm can speak to Frosti and arrange a meeting for you.
But you should not see him again until then.” Thurid was silent.
Gwyneth turned to Groa. “Of course, we need to speak to Braga as
well.” She said to Thurid, “If you will have a good marriage with
this man, then you need his mother’s agreement.”

Thurid looked troubled for the first
time during the entire conversation, then she nodded. “I will leave
it in your hands, my mothers. I will not go up into the meadows for
now.” And so they struck a bargain.

Colm said, “Have you thought of
marriage?”

Frosti shrugged. “I am happy enough
without it. Oh, I sometimes think...” His voice trailed off.

Colm could imagine the thoughts of this
young man as he lay alone in the meadow. “But then you consider
that a family would require care and attention, and that you would
not be so free as now.”

Frosti nodded. “Yes. Sometimes I see
other young men and their wives and I so enjoy not being married!”
He hung his head. “I am ashamed.” Then he looked up. “And I would
not want to be like Adals and abandon my family.”

“No,” said Colm, “But I do not think you
need to worry on that score. You seem to me a responsible man. If
you looked after a family as well as you look after these horses,
all would praise you.”

Frosti looked at the horses in the
meadow as though imagining them his wife and children. “So,” he
said at last, “Does this mean you have a match picked out for
me?”

“No,” said Colm, “It means a girl has
picked you out.”

“Me? Who would choose me?”

“Thurid. She says you are
beautiful.”

“Ah, Thurid. I never thought of her... I
never thought...” What Frosti had thought was that if he married
anyone, it would be a newly-freed slave, perhaps a cast-off
concubine who had lost her looks. He thought his wife would be very
like his mother.

“Well,” said Colm, “This is all very
unusual. Your mother knows nothing of this yet, but would you like
to meet Thurid?” Colm held up a hand. “No one wants to pressure
you. In fact, there are some who oppose this match.”

“And how do you feel about it?” Frosti
looked Colm in the eye.